Worst Possible Outcome
by Sageandmilk
Summary: "Stiles- close your eyes. Right now." He heard Peter order from across the room. "What, Why?" Stiles asked moving his head to look up at the man, and that was when everything changed. Or Stiles gets his with a love-spell and the person he falls in love with is by FAR the worst candidate.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh my God, I don't even know what the hell most of these things _are_." Stiles groaned looking around the cluttered attic in utter awe.

The Hale House attic hadn't been disturbed in over six years, and every surface was covered in dust and crusty piles of greasy, black soot. It had taken a while, but Peter had convinced Derek that there were just too many _important _things in the attic that they couldn't just keep ignoring; things that could give them knowledge that could have potentially solved them a lot of problems in the past; i.e. info on how to _not _get slaughtered by Kanimas and Darachs.

There were books, bestiaries, talismans, herbs, paintings, scrolls, weird looking torture thingies; letters, notes, boxes _filled _with god knows what, pots, pans, statues, some wide variety of moonstones, and basically just a bunch of random shit. And they _all _had to be catalogued and sorted.

Stiles didn't know _why _but apparently Grandma Hale was a great collector of all things mystery and magic; including the dangerous stuff.

"What the _hell _is this?" Isaac asked, hesitantly picking up a brown and crusty shrunken head with a pair of tongs, his face disgusted.

"My mother liked to collect a lot of antiques." Peter shrugged, rummaging through a dusty box of dried herbs. Dude didn't seem even _slightly _creeped out by the head- and Stiles wondered how much of the stuff up there was actually _his_.

"So how are we sorting these things again?" Scott questioned scratching his scruffy hair and looking around the room in the same kind of hopelessness Stiles felt. There was just _so much_. The burnt walls were literally lined with odd trinkets and books; the attic was huge, able to fit Isaac, Stiles, Scott, Peter and Derek comfortably without each other even needing to be within three feet of anyone, yet _still _it was hard to move without tripping over a stray book or weird-looking item. There were tables full of freaking cat's skulls, coat racks covered in feather head-dresses, giant man-sized urns, ceiling mobiles made of crystals, _a treasure chest full of steam punk guns_? And a heck of a lot of other things.

It was all Scott's fault really, that Stiles was in this mess. When the teen had heard Derek mention the upcoming and daunting job of cleaning out the crowded Hale attic- he'd (and without Stiles' permission) offered up his own help- along with Stiles and Isaac's.

"We're sorting as follows; books, _magical _books, herbs, runes, cursed objects, old trinkets like jewellery and globes, plus the added category of '_weird shit' _since half the things we find are probably not going to fit into any of the other categories." Peter put forward helpfully- now fiddling with a creepy taxidermy fox head.

"Waaaait. There are cursed objects?" Stiles slowly backed away from anything and everything, hastily putting down the onyx jewellery box he'd been fiddling with.

"Relax Stiles, most of this stuff requires blood and/or torn out and fermented lambs hearts to even _start _the magical process." Peter said gently, but there was that vicious gleam in his eye- like he'd enjoy nothing more than a good old Stilinski freak-out.

"That's not exactly as reassuring as you think it is!" Stiles snapped, looking to Derek for backup.

The newly-made-beta was frowning, looking around the charred attic in distain. Of course, he'd put off visiting this room for _years_, he must've been feeling a bit overwhelmed. Hell; it probably looked like a nightmare to him; remnants of his family's positions scattered around covered in soot, ash and in some parts soaked with water from where the roof was leaking.

Suddenly all the char marks, dust, and ash brought a whole new level of unsettling to the area.

Derek turned, noticing Stiles staring at him sadly, "Just get to work Stiles." He snapped, turning away to delve through the piles and piles of junk.

Stiles let out a sigh of his own, Derek may have been emotionally growing in the whole 'letting other people in' area- but he was still a socially stunted asshat. Stiles had no idea _why _he felt anything for the man.

The teen shook his head and got back to work, shuffling on his feet and picking up the onyx jewellery box once again. It was quite beautiful actually, carved in an oval shape like egg, silver lined with claw foot stands to keep it in place. It wasn't glistening and gleaming, still covered in soot and filth. Stiles still hadn't figured out how to open the box yet- even though he's spent a few minutes previous fiddling with it, rubbing away as much of the greasy blackness off f it's surface as possible.

He ran his long fingers over the smooth surface again, digging his nails into the silver lining and trying to find a- "_click_" _there we go_, a catch.

Stiles fist-pumped in triumph as the Jewellery box split in half, the top spinning open diagonally like one of those doors in the fancy rich-boy cars. The inside was lined with soft, plush, navy velvet, looking cushy and unmarred from all the soot and dust the attic had developed.

Lying on the velvet interior was a pretty silver ball- it was about the size of a golf-ball, the surface filled with lines of engraved pentagons and rune-like carvings.

Stiles set down the jewellery box onto a nearby crate, and lifted the small ball out of it.

The object was quite weighted, probably made out of some heavy material like iron and just plated with silver. It looked kind of like a silver version of a golden snitch from Harry Potter and Stiles amused himself with the fantasy that it was one.

He fiddled with it for a few seconds more, before he noticed that you could _move _it- like some kind of spherical Rubik's cube- the lines of runes and pentagonal pieces could be turned around and twisted, as easy as twisting the top off a bottle.

Stiles hummed, noticing the little clicking sounds it was making with each turn around; it was almost like the sound of a number-lock clicking round and round. Maybe the sphere was one of those puzzle things? Find the right code and it opens up?

He fiddled with it, turning and twisting- noticing lines intertwining and locking in place as he moved it around.

"Hey guys look at this!" Stiles ordered, still twisting the little sections, listening with glee as they clicked away.

"No Stiles don't-," both Peter and Derek started to yell- but Stiles stopped listening once the sphere stopped being able to twist, making a final clicking sound and then _whirring_, like a machine!

And then, _click_ "OWWW!" a fucking sharp as shit needle the size of one of those _butt _ones you see in movies-popped out the side and _jabbed him_- right in the thumb too!

A drop of his blood rolled down the flesh of his thumb and onto the sooty attic floor, creating a stark red difference to its black surroundings.

Well there went his love for _that _particular object. Stupid freaking needle-sphere.

"What the fuck- it pricked me!" Stiles yelled, placing his thumb in his mouth and sucking away the hurt and blood.

"Stiles close your eyes. Right now." He heard Peter order from across the room.

"What, Why?" Stiles asked, moving his head to look up at the man, and that was when everything changed.

"Shit." Derek cursed loudly- but Stiles was no-longer paying attention, his eyes still fixated on _Peter._

The only thought that came to mind was; _how had he ever hated this man?_ Peter was brilliant! Smart, cunning, hilarious and- wait. _Waaaaait._ Stiles didn't think these things? Did he? Well he sure thought them now, _thoroughly _believed in them actually. He used to- well actually just seconds ago, he hated Peter with all of his heart…but now? It was like he was having a sudden epiphany. The man was great. _Awesome _even. How could he have ever thought anything different?

Stiles took a step forward, towards Peter. Magnificent, amazing _Peter. _

"Oh you've got to be kidding me." He heard Derek grumble- but ignored the man and just kept walking towards _him, _face slack with awe_._

"Oh no you don't." suddenly there was a heavily-muscled arm clamped around his chest, holding him in place and away from where he wanted to be.

"Hey let me go!" Stiles yelled at Derek, trying to get a way but failing miserably against the man's super strength.

"Stiles- you hate Peter, remember." Derek said into his ear, still holding him still.

"What? No I don't!" Stiles argued, managing to break an arm free and stretch it out to the elder Hale.

"Stiles, think about this rationally. You hate Peter- then you get pricked by an unknown, obviously magical object- and suddenly you _like _Peter. See my point?" Derek sighed, sounding for the entire world like he'd just had _enough, _enough of everything.

Stiles deflated. Yeah, he got the point. It explained a lot actually. Whatever he was feeling wasn't _real_- he didn't really think Peter was the most important person ever, that he was the most charming, beautiful, funny man in the universe. But the problem was he _did _think it. He totally believed it, and even though he tried he couldn't help the gush of warm affection he felt every time he looked at the man's face.

"I- I'm under some kind of spell, right?" Stiles asked, still not taking his eyes off of Peter.

The man was staring back at him, expressionless, cold blue eyes staring straight into his _soul_. They really were lovely eyes.

He felt as Derek nodded behind him, "Yes you're under a spell."

"Then it won't hurt just to be _near _him right? Just a little? Till the spell wears off or we fix it or whatever?" Stiles knew how desperate he sounded- could hear it in his voice, but he didn't _care, _it was becoming almost physically painful not being near Peter.

Derek sighed, sounding frustrated and down-trodden; "Peter get over here." He commanded and Stiles felt his heart leap in excitement.

Peter took three strides forward, shoes bringing up dusty clouds of ash in his wake and he was _there, _right in front of him. Derek hesitantly let go of Stiles and the boy took his opportunity- springing into action and almost tackling Peter into a hug, rubbing his face against the man's scratchy jaw with unconcealed enthusiasm.

"Ahhh- what's going on?" He head Scott ask in clear confusion- but Stiles wasn't too fussed, as he was still getting himself nice and acquainted with Peter. God, he didn't know why- but it was like this sudden _urge _had just washed over him; the urge to be close to Peter, the urge to _hold him, _the urge to love him.

Peter chuckled, patting Stiles on the back, the attention made Stiles' mind _preen_- which was just wrong…he never felt happy around Peter, why now? Oh yeah, right, spell.

"It seems Stiles fiddled with a _'love curse' _trinket. The first person he saw after getting infected was_ me_; therefore his infatuation has obviously attached itself to yours truly." Peter sounded smug almost, which made Stiles happy in the whole _'he likes me!' _way- which, _no_ this was not happening; he was not in love with Peter. No!

Stiles, with great mental effort- unwound his arms from around the man's neck and stepped back, clenching his fists under the strain it took on his instincts.

"This can't be happening." Stiles whispered in horrified awe. He looked up at Peter again to check if he was getting this right- yep, still absolute affection, hell even a bit of _lust_ which he knew the old Stiles would usually be disgusted by, but instead it felt _right_- like feeling these things for Peter was the way things were supposed to be.

The more seconds Stiles stood away from Peter, the more he could feel himself sweating under the strain- his heartbeat making loud _thu-thud_'s in his ears, his whole body tense with the need to _get closer_.

"Stiles stop fighting so much- your heart can't take it." Derek murmured, sounding both counselling and upset at the same time.

Stiles let out a whoosh of air and tackled Peter once again, his face finding the nook of Peter's neck and rubbing away; he was relishing in the feel of skin-on-skin contact. He wanted more, but knowing that this wasn't supposed to be his usual behaviour; Stiles held himself back.

"This is sooooo weird." Scott exclaimed from behind him, and Stiles heard Isaac 'uh ha' in agreement.

"Come on- we have to get him to Deaton." Derek declared, "Peter and I know what the spell does, but we have no idea how long it lasts for or how to break it."

Stiles didn't actually know if he _wanted _them to break it- he couldn't imagine going back to _hating _someone like Peter, not when he loved him so much.

And that was the truth- he _did _love him, no matter how bizarre a concept that was.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Do you _have _to do that?" Derek asked him, sounding disgusted and probably freaking out about seeing Stiles so close to his uncle.

"Dude I'm _trying. _Trust me when I say this is probably the _least _amount of PDA I could be showing right now." Stiles shot back, his voice raised and aggravated.

They were in Deaton's office, having come straight away. Isaac, Scott, Derek and Deaton were standing around; studying them. Stiles and Peter were sitting up on the cold metal bench used for pets and Stiles was finding it _impossible _to keep his hands to himself. What he had said to Derek was true; he was showing a lot of restraint; only hugging the elder Hale's side, pressing his nose to the man's neck and just _breathing. _God he'd never been this _close _to Peter before…buthe could be doing a lot worse, he could be doing what he _craved _to do and basically jump Peter's bones in front of everyone. God, Scott would never forgive him!

But Stiles new he shouldn't be acting like this, new that rationally Peter was a bad person; that his feelings were fake and a product of whatever the weird Rubik's Snitchy thing did to him. The problem with him was that it just _felt _so real; his affections. He honestly couldn't think a bad thing about Peter, even though he knew he should. It was like believing for the world that McDonald's was bad for you- but being told that you were just being brainwashed; that McDonalds was actually the healthiest and most nutritious thing out and that all the thoughts you had about McDonalds being unhealthy was wrong.

In truth Stiles new that McDonalds was unhealthy- and _god _he was taking this analogy too far. Okay, the point was that he could only think of Peter as kind, amazing, _attractive _even- but he was being told, hell his _memories_ were telling him…that Peter was a monster.

He was just struggling to remind himself of that fact.

"How much trouble are you having restraining yourself?" Deaton asked, calmly stoking his chin like a doctor intrigued with a patient. Dude never looked anything but mild tones of emotion- Stiles would probably have an aneurism if he saw the serious motherfucker actually _grin _rather than just smirk.

He felt embarrassed at the question, hiding his face in Peter's warm neck for comfort, it was nice- the man's smell was strong there. Feeling the Peter not flinch at his affectionate movement; Stile felt pleased, "I-I'm holding back pretty hard. It's getting harder though…I honestly don't know if just doing this will be enough in a while…" Stiles felt _ashamed_- like his feelings were disgusting and that everyone was going to judge him. He knew it couldn't be helped, _but God _he loved Peter Hale; what was going through Scott's mind seeing him like this?

"It's getting worse?" Derek asked, and Stiles could hear the frown in his voice, but didn't look up to check if it was there.

Stiles nodded into Peter's neck- relishing in the scratchy feeling of the man's facial hair. Unable to hold himself back, the teen succumbed to rubbing his face against Peter just _a bit _– just to feel that feeling again. He heard both Scott and Derek choke in surprised disgust.

"Mmmm," Deaton hummed, sounding calculating. "And how do you feel about Peter, Stiles?" he questioned.

"I-it's embarrassing." Stiles murmured, liking the way his lips brushed against Peter's neck as he spoke, he wouldn't do anything about that though; not when there was an audience. God this was by _far _the gayest thing he'd ever done; and he'd jokingly propositioned both Scott _and _Danny numerous times! Probably the most illegal too- Peter was what, thirty, thirty-five? Oh man his dad was gonna _kill_ him!

"Stiles, we all know that what you're feeling is just an effect of whatever spell you're under; there isn't any judgement here. If you want me to help find out what's happening to you, you need to answer my questions." Deaton reasoned.

Stiles nodded, letting out a shaky breath, "I-_Jesus _I don't know," he started-voice low and raspy with emotion, "It's like my whole view of the world's been turned upside down, you know? I know Peter's a bad guy-," Peter chuckled beside him, rocking Stiles head up and down in the movement, "I _remember _thinking about how much I hate him. But now it's like… it's almost impossible tofeel that way about Peter anymore; I just _can't _think anything wrong about him."

Stiles looked up, removing his head with great effort, but keeping his hands firmly planted on Peter's hips. Derek was frowning, glaring at Peter hard and Stiles felt an absolutely _stupid _wave of protectiveness run though him. Scott just looked plain disgusted; which Stiles got. He was Scott's best bud and right now he was cuddling up to someone Scott _hated_. Isaac looked embarrassed for him, which was nice and also a bit embarrassing itself.

Deaton…Deaton just looked _concerned_. That was _not _a common look on the man. Shit must be at least 900% not-awesome on the scale of un-awesomeness for Deaton to even so much as twitch an eyebrow.

"Stiles…I know this is a hard question to answer, especially with company in the room; but I need to know how _attracted _to Peter you feel, and not just emotionally." Deaton looked hesitant, but serious.

Both Scott and Derek seemed _livid _with anger. Isaac just looked like he wanted to be absolutely anywhere else, Stiles got that feel- he'd much rather be alone with Peter than answering embarrassing questions about his _feelings_.

"Ugh." Stiles moaned, "I- I _like _him okay? Like _irrational amounts _and I know it's not real because I didn't feel this way before that stupid-ass ball pricked me."

Stiles took a deep, steadying breath, frowning and deciding to just bite the bullet, "I-I'm physically attracted to him too-," Stiles saw Derek's nose flair angrily, "And I _know _I didn't feel like that before; it would have grossed me out megaloads; the stuff I'm feeling...but instead it just feels _right_."

Stiles waited, waited for the judgement; but instead all he could see was everyone (sans Deaton) glaring at Peter like he was some kind of mud on their shoes.

"What?" Peter asked them, Stiles looked at him to see him smirking, "It's not like it's _my_ fault."

Derek's jaw clenched visibly, "You _know _of_ all_ the cursed in that room! You _saw _him holding that jewellery box! You knew what was going to happen!" He accused, fists clenching.

"But how, dear nephew, how would I know which person Stiles looked at first?…Why it could have just as easily have been _you_." Peter smirked, and Stiles could see the anger in Derek's eyes…but also the pity Scott was looking at the man with? What was he pitying Derek for? _Stiles _was the one in the uncomfortable situation here! Priorities Scott, _priorities._

Derek looked at Peter, eyes narrowed and face seething, "You knew. You knew he'd look at you first because you _spoke first. _You wanted it to happen, so you drew his attention to you. Didn't you!? You told him to close his eyes…not to look, knowing he'd do the _exact opposite _and look. Straight. At. You."

Peter smiled, "Well…the human brain rarely listens enough before acting. You tell someone to close their eyes and the first thing they do is look towards the sound."

Derek growled, and Stiles could see him getting ready to spring; his claws growing and his muscles bunching.

The teen reacted subconsciously, feeling the sudden need to protect and _save;_ he sprung, placing himself over Peter protectively and muttering over and over again; "_Please don't hurt him. Don't hurt him. Please don't hurt him. Please."_

No one attacked though.

Stiles curled away from Peter after a while, realising it was safe and that the danger had dissipated. He was almost lying in Peter's lap. Looking up at the man he saw him smiling almost _possessively_- and he knew the old Stiles would have felt disgusted, but he just felt pleased.

Turning around to look at the others, he saw Scott and Isaac looking horrified, Deaton looking sad and accepting, and Derek…Derek looked _broken_, staring at Stiles in Peter's lap with his lips pressed tight and his fists clenched.

"I think I know what this is." Deaton sighed, moving over to place a hand on Derek's tense shoulder only _minutely _calming the werewolf down.

"The ball had nothing to do with it…it was just a container. What caused this was the serum that must have been in that needle." Deaton looked over at Stiles, staring him right in the eye, "It's…a complicated love potion. Most affect either one side; lust or affection, never _true _love. But…this potion is a rare mix of both, encompassing not only the emotional attraction and desire to please and protect-," he gestured to Stiles' position still half-sprawled in Peter's lap, "- but also the physical attraction and lust."

Deaton sighed, "It's indeterminate how long it will last for…days to years- who knows?"

_"Years?!" _Scott squeaked, turning pale as the same time that Derek snapped _"What?!"_

_Years…that…wouldn't be so bad? _But Stiles knew that was just the potion talking…he had no valid opinion while he was under it- he know that.

"Yes, yes I know," Deaton held up his hands to silence the outraged cries of Scott and Derek, "We have a bigger problem though...Stiles is going to get worse."

Deaton ignored the outraged _"WHAT?!"_'s from Derek, Scott and even Isaac.

"And by worse I mean he's going to have to stay with Peter."

There was more shouting- but Deaton silenced them all with a hand.

"Stiles?" he asked, turning to him, "How do you feel about standing up and walking across the room away from Peter?"

Stiles new it was irrational- but suddenly he felt a wave of pure, heady _panic_ flash over him- immediately making him cling to Peter with his entire body saying; "no. No. No. No. No. Nononononono. No!" over and over again.

"See." He heard Deaton say to Derek and Scott, sounding sadly smug.

"He can stay with us then." Derek decided, and Stiles looked up from his clinging position on Peter to see the man crossing his arms and looking final.

"I don't think that's going to work either." Deaton sighed.

"Why _not_." Derek growled, not a question; more like a demand.

"Stiles how embarrassed do you feel right now?" Deaton asked.

"Really, really, really embarrassed." Stiles mumbled back; face hiding in Peter's neck again- the man was clinging to the teen's back to keep him from falling off of his lap. Stiles could feel Peter's hands… residual warmth was soaking through the back of his shirt and making his skin tingle.

"And Derek, how long do think you're going to last seeing more of this-," Deaton gestured to Stiles' clinging to Peter like a koala, "-and probably _worse_- without snapping and snatching Stiles away?"

"Hmph." Derek looked begrudging, "I'm still deciding whether or not I should just tear Peter's throat out again right now and deal with the consequences as they come."

"NO! NO! NO! NOOOOO!" Stiles shouted, clinging to Peter tightly and making sure to hide the man's neck from Derek's evil, evil hands. Okay, so Stiles knew _rationally _that Derek was kidding…but in all honesty this love-spell was making him as irrational as shit.

"See what you did now Derek?" Scott hissed as Stiles continued to protest. He walked up to rub at Stiles back and sooth with a; "No-one's gonna hurt him Stiles. It's okay- Derek was just being a meanie and joking. It's okay bud."

"I'm not a baby you know Scott." Stiles grumbled, but he felt marginally better- uncurling from his protective position over Peter and leaning back to find the man stifling laughter.

"Derek," Deaton was saying, "The spell doesn't end with Peter's death…it would still go on. You can _see _how much just the _thought _affects Stiles- how do you think he'd fare if Peter dies?"

Stiles let out a ragged breath, hiding his face in Peter's throat; trying hard to find comfort and pointedly _not _think about Peter leaving him.

"He'd never forgive you." Peter laughed, obviously acting smug towards his nephew. Stiles couldn't help but agree though, he'd _never _forgive anyone if they took Peter away from him. Never.

Derek grumbled. "So you're suggesting letting Peter take Stiles _home _with him? _Alone?_ You honestly think that that isn't a bad idea?" Derek sounded accusatory and gruff.

"It's better than upsetting Stiles further by having people around to embarrass him and upset him by trying to separate him from Peter." Deaton soothed. Stiles nodded in agreement.

"Okay," Derek gritted out, turning to Peter, "But if you hurt him in any way- or take advantage of him- I don't care about the spell I _will _kill you."

Deaton hummed, "I have to agree that I probably wouldn't stop Derek if that was the case. I'm not entirely comfortable with this situation Hale- I care about this boy and I _know _just what you're capable of. I'm trusting you to be a _perfect gentlemen_, otherwise I might just assist Derek in the clean-up."

For such a threatening thing to say; the vet sounded like he was talking about the weather. What kind of vet threatens a violent werewolf anyway? Especially with that amount of ease?

Then Stiles realised something.

"So I get to be alone with you then?" He looked up at Peter in hopeful joy.

Derek and Scott groaned simultaneously in annoyance.

**NOTE:**

**Be aware that this is not and endgame Stiles/Peter story. Stiles does not love Peter- it's just a spell. A spell that Peter is probably going to take advantage of BUT LET IT BE KNOWN that if Stiles was in his right mind- he wouldn't be interested in the man.**


	3. Chapter 3

**!WARNINGS!**: _Okay, so; I'm going to have to change this story to 'M' due to this chapter and the ones to come (do not read that as an innuendo you filthy minds!). I'm also obligated to warn that this chapter contains EXTREME DUB-CON, if not actual non-con. This is because, as Stiles is under a love spell- he is technically also under the influence and not entirely responsible for his actions. Being taken advantage of in this state is probably as morally incorrect as taking advantage on someone high on aphrodisiacs. So yeah, you've been warned._

Chapter Three

"Mmm, what are you reading?" Stiles asked lazily.

When they'd gotten home to Peter's apartment, Stiles was actually surprised about how clean and…_stylish_ it was; full of all this modern home-décor and man, it was even bigger than Derek's loft. Yes, Stiles had once talked about Peter living in a wolfy cave in a _joking _manner; but in all seriousness he'd actually found it hard to visualize Peter dwelling _anywhere. _The place was very…Peter like though, filled with lots and lots of books, and if Stiles peaked hard enough- the spines were in texts and languages he and his stupid English-speaking mind could not understand.

Peter had made dinner, because he's awesome and can cook (and no it wasn't a bunny in a little wolfy oven- it was a nice chicken stir-fry). They'd eaten a tad awkwardly though, Stiles having to at least have his thighs brushing the man's otherwise he'd feel like his skin was itching off. Jesus, it was embarrassing to be this dependent on somebody; especially for such an independent person as Stiles. But when he tried to hold back, tried to move away from Peter and give him some space; it was like an overwhelming rush of panic came over him, weighing him down and almost making him puke his guts out. So yeah, he stayed close to Peter.

Now, about an hour after dinner; dishes had been done and put away and Stiles lay sprawled atop of Peter; who was reading some random book, his bicep brushing Stiles' shoulder every time he reached up to turn the page.

"_1984_." Peter replied, in reference to the book he was reading.

Stiles was too distracted to listen though, Peter's collar-bones like, _right _in his face, acting like some freaking siren-song or something. "Whaa?" he mumbled, leering at the man's shoulders. Damn, Stiles wasn't usually this pervy; or at least he was subtle about it- often using hiding tactics, quick glances and distractions to sneak a peek at Lydia Martin's bodacious booty.

Peter sighed, "_1984_, it's a dystopian novel where the government is basically oppressing and mind-controlling everyone; this one man, Winston, hates the way things are working and the book is about how he's basically rebelling against a Government who hates rebellion."

"Do the Government, like, fall or something and everyone drops out of mind-control- living happily ever after and building back the world or some shit? Because no offense dude, but that's a tad bit Hunger Games to be original." Stiles asked, only really a little interested; but glad to talk about the things Peter liked.

"This was written _decades _before that book series Stiles, and nope, no happy ending. Winston falls back under; ends out mindlessly loving the government and everybody lives blandly and oppressively ever after." Peter drawled. Huh, he must have read the book more than once if he already knew the ending. It wasn't really Stiles' kind of book, a sad ending; but if Peter liked it then so did he. _Mannn_ where did that come from? Stiles may be temporarily in love but did he really have to stoop to sappiness too?

Stiles hummed, leaning more into Peter's neck, the man smelled nice- like pine and wood shavings and smoke. Oh and the sappiness would just keep coming; Stiles didn't have it in himself to complain that much though, not when he was enjoying this so much.

"I like this- talking with you, you're really smart and before I was too caught up in hating you to realise how awesome you are." As soon as it was out of his mouth; Stiles regretted it. But it was like the traitorous words had a mind of their own.

Peter chuckled lightly though, and replied; "Do you know why I'm so happy with this spell Stiles?" he asked. And no, Stiles didn't- because he hadn't known beforehand that Peter was happy with it. He'd actually been worrying that Peter was going to get fed-up with a seventeen-year old lovesick boy clinging to him 24/7.

"Because I've known for a while now, that soon Derek's going to eventually stop making excuses for keeping me around." He stated. "'_I need him, he has information, he's useful' _blah, blah, blah. Truth is he's just too weak and afraid to kill his dearest uncle _a second time_." Peter chuckled darkly.

"He won't be that way soon though, eventually he's going to get fed up. All of you; this little pack of teenagers and Argents- you're just _egging him on_. Telling him I'm dangerous and can't be trusted. You're right, of course, but that doesn't mean I can't take protective measures." Peter placed his book down on the floor beside them, curling his arms around Stiles and resting his chin atop the boy's head. It was a rather domestic position; a lover's embrace, one that shot little butterflies churning in Stiles' stomach.

"And do you know where _you _fit into all of this Stiles?" Peter asked, his jaw bumping Stiles' skull as he spoke softly.

Stiles shook his head; feeling like this was one of those moments where only Peter should be speaking.

"You're a shield; a shield against a _silver bullet_ that would otherwise be coming any day now." Peter sounded smug, happy with himself almost. And although Stiles knew he shouldn't have; he felt happy that Peter was happy.

"So…I'm protecting you?" Stiles sounded doubtful, even to himself. How could one clumsy teenage boy possibly stand against _anyone _who wanted to kill Peter? Hell, he was pretty sure if it were legal Lydia would have already done it herself.

"Yes you are protecting me Sties." Peter murmured lightly, "Think about this; if Derek leapt at me right now, what would you do?"

"Leap in front of you." Stiles didn't hesitate.

"And do you honestly think Derek would ever kill you? That Scott would let him even?" Peter asked, rubbing his hands up and down Stiles' back- catching at the hem of his shirt and making the boy shiver.

"No." the teen answered.

"And if you're always shielding me, and Derek doesn't want to hurt you- do you see how I'm safe from him and anyone he associates with?"

Yes. Yes Stiles did.

"So you're using me?" Stiles questioned, distracted lightly by the hands trailing down his back.

"Oh definitely." Peter replied, and Stiles could just _hear _his grin.

"So you'd deal with a clingy teenager? All for the sake of protection?" Stiles felt a bit let down, a bit heartbroken actually. But at least Peter was letting him touch; not pushing him away and causing more pain.

"Well now Stiles, I never said I didn't _like _the attention." Peter smirked, the same time as the word _like_ left his mouth, his hands moved to Stiles ass- gripping harshly and rubbing though the jeans.

Stiles swallowed, shaking under the feel; a coil of hot tightness suddenly making its way down to his groin.

"Sh-should you be doing th_at_?" he stuttered, his voice embarrassingly breaking on the last word. "I mean- Derek did say he'd kill you if you touched me, regardless of the consequences. Deaton said he'd _help_. I-I'm not _objecting _here or anything, I'm just worried." Stiles rested his head in the crook of Peter's neck- waiting to see what he'd do.

"Stiles do _I _ever do what people tell me?" Peter smirked, trailing his hands into and up the back of Stiles' t-shirt and hoodie, thumbing at the small dimples on his lower back.

"B-but won't you get in trouble?" Stiles was finding it hard to complain, what with the skin-to-skin contact; but he also didn't want to see Peter hurt, and although Stiles was supposedly protection, he knew every shield had its limits- and if Peter did this, then Derek would no longer care about preserving Stiles' feelings.

"I won't tell if you don't." Peter breathed cheekily into his ear, nipping it for a second.

And that was it. Stiles gave up with a desperate groan and moved to lean down and _attack _Peter. Attack him with his mouth.

Now, Stiles wasn't exactly experienced in kissing. There had been Heather, of course, and that little panicked peck from Lydia. But other than that he was pretty much flying blind.

It was wet, smooth and Peter…Peter was definitely dominating- his rough beard scraping at Stiles' mouth and creating a pleasant sort of burn. Who knew tongues could give people zingy, electrified feelings? Well Stiles knew now.

The man slid his hands down from the small of Stiles' back- and _lower_, into Stiles' pants and underwear, touching his bare ass. He groaned at the feeling of Peter massaging and squeezing; this being the furthest, sexually, he'd ever gone with anyone.

He knew the old Stiles would be appalled; disgusted at even the _thought _of touching Peter, but right at that moment he decided _'fuck it'_, he'd let himself deal with the consequences after the spell was broken. And if it never broke…well, Stiles certainly wasn't complaining.

"You have a nice ass." Peter commented roughly, moving his lips away from Stiles' to drag kisses down the boy's jugular.

Stiles' breath hitched when Peter flicked out his tongue, feeling a hot wave of shaky arousal make its way down- instantly making him harder. He groaned; pushing his hands up the man's shirt, feeling and exploring the defined stomach underneath.

Peter rolled his hips up, and Stiles rolled down in return- the both of them settling into a hurried, desperate rhythm filled with aggressive pleasure.

Peter pulled Stiles' ass in, squeezing it on a particularly hard grind, and with a stutter gasp Stiles felt a spurt of wetness start to soak his underwear.

The werewolf chuckled, obviously smelling the effect their actions were having on Stiles. He grabbed Stiles around the waist and under the knee, flipping them over on the couch so now Peter was on top- pressing Stiles into the cushions and kissing him vigorously, pleasurable pain coming from both teeth and the scratch of Peter's facial hair.

Stiles tried grinding his hips up into Peter's more; but the man stopped him; curling his hands in at Stiles' waist and holding the boy down, moving his own hips to control the pace.

Stiles groaned, this time in annoyance. The pace wasn't fast enough, and certainly not hard enough; barely there brushes of hips and groins.

"Has this spell made you _that _desperate for me?" Peter mocked, but his voice gave through how much he must have liked the idea. The rigid bulge in his pants certainly did anyway, from the way it twitched against Stiles hip at the words.

Stiles nodded, biting his lips and struggling to grind up, to feel that amazing pressure once again.

"How desperate are you Stiles?" Peter whispered, blowing hot breath right into his ear and then dragging down to _bite _at the lobe.

"_Please_." Stiles gritted out, not really wanting to give in…but his body seemed to have other plans.

Peter chuckled and _thank God! _Let go of Stiles' hips; letting the boy buck and grind his way franticly.

The jeans and now sticky wet underwear were constricting…slightly chaffing too- but Stiles _did not care dammit_. He was about to burst- probably literally- and he couldn't wait any longer. Not with another body helping his way to completion this time.

He couldn't wait.

And that was probably why, after about three more frantic thrusts upwards, the tension coiled into his stomach and _skyrocketed_- thudding in his veins and making him shudder, spilling all over Peter's own, still tight pants.

Stiles lay there, twitching and panting, only half aware as he saw Peter pull down his own zipper- pulling out his, _wow._ Okay, so- he could cross seeing another man jack-off in front of him off of his bucket list.

Jesus, Stiles was just a bit disappointed that he was so _content-_that he could barely look past the colours dancing in front of his eyes to see Peter finish- spilling all over Stiles' T-shirt with a grunt, wiping his hands off on his thighs.

Stiles did, however, have to break out of his stupor when Peter commanded; "Come on. Let's get you into the shower. We can't have Derek smelling this when he inevitably comes to check that I've been a good boy."

Stiles knew by now that he shouldn't be feeling a sense of dread when facing a shower with Peter Hale; but he was. Because he knew, he knew how much he was going to regret what he just did. Maybe not right that second; but as soon as that spell wore off….well, let's say future Stiles is probably not going to be pleased.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four  
It was really quite fascinating, how much the boy seemed to be devoted to him. Of course that was what Peter was going for here, but Stiles had become…quite un-Stiles like in the recent time they'd spent together.  
The youngest Stilinski was known for his brash, bold and flittering movements; constantly pacing his way around the room, scratching his chin, fiddling with his fingers. Now, though- he couldn't go more than two feet away from Peter to pace. Nor did he seem to be babbling quite as much- too hyped up on love to be the source of intellectual banter Peter loved most.  
The boy was constantly clinging to him, sounding like a wounded animal if he had to be left even a foot away from him. He was also…fixated, not really talking or rambling like he usually would; instead he just sat there, leering at Peter like he was God's gift to earth. If it was anyone else Peter wouldn't have tolerated it, but Stiles Stilinski was special even in a state of infatuation.  
And yes, okay God forbid Derek was right for once; Peter had planned this. But he'd only ever read the effects of the spell in a book- he hadn't actually known that the love would be so…lovey.  
There were upsides though. For one Stiles did have a nice ass- a thing Peter had noticed previously on several occasions. He'd got to thoroughly touch that ass…among other things, and the boy had actually let him, whereas in any other situation Peter probably would've gotten set on fire again for going anywhere remotely close to the young Stilinski's ass. And it wasn't like Stiles was unattractive, in fact in hindsight he was probably exactly Peter's type- even if a bit younger than usual. Another upside was that, although Peter didn't necessarily like the way Stiles was so dependent, the way he wasn't really himself anymore; he knew for a fact that Derek would hate it. That fact had been proven pretty damned quickly in the veterinarian's office.  
The best thing about it though, was that the others couldn't do anything about it. Not if they were trying to avoid Stiles becoming a sobbing, screaming mess of anger and grief.  
But the whole thing was quickly beginning to bore Peter; sitting in the house with Stiles and causing absolutely no chaos. Well, sure, even touching the boy was potentially going to cause a riot, but in the meantime Peter wanted some fun.  
Maybe it was about time for a trip to Derek's.

"Oh my God would you please stop pacing McCall? You're driving me insane." Cora hissed, throwing a sofa cushion right at Scott's head- causing it to bounce harmlessly to the floor after smacking the teen in the face.  
"I can't- I just- I'm worried." Scott complained, going back to pacing the length of the loft in aggravation after spending a quick moment to pout/glare at Cora.  
Derek wasn't pacing like Scott, or gnawing his nails like Isaac, or yelling at everyone like his little sister- but he sure felt like doing all of those things. Instead he sat on the loft's blue velvet couch, elbows on knees, hands on chin and eyes fixated on Scott and Cora fighting. He was trying not to think. Really, really trying.  
"I mean- how could we have just let Peter take him? We didn't even fight!" Derek agreed with Scott's words vehemently but he didn't outwardly do anything in response.  
"Oh my God McCall. You're making it sound like Peter's kidnapped Stilinski forever or something," Cora rolled her eyes, "We all know where he is, and Peter knows not to hurt him. We've even freaking called the Sheriff and told him all about the 'spontaneous road trip' we're going on. Everything's fine. Chill."  
"Everything's fine? Everything's fine?!" Scott hissed, pausing in his pacing to glare at Cora. "A psychopath has my best-friend in a love-spell- tell me you don't think Peter's not gonna take advantage of that! A night time has passed already. Who knows what he could have done? And lying to the sheriff? We have no idea how long this thing is going to last- don't you think he's going to start getting suspicious after our "spontaneous road-trip" exceeds a month?!"  
Cora breathed in ddeply; obviously frustrated. "We can't do anything about it Scott." She murmured, lowering her voice so that it was just as dejected as Scott's. "Even though he's your best friend, I've grown to care about him too. Peter should be here with him any second anyway. We can see for ourselves that he's done nothing."  
"But how do you know he's done nothing?!" Scott growled angrily, but mostly to the ground and not at Cora. Derek could see how agitated the boy was; almost as bad as Derek felt.  
"Scott. Calm down." It was the first time Isaac had spoken that morning- being like Derek and preferring just to watch whilst Cora and Scott bite at each other's heads.  
Isaac didn't have as much of a bond with Stiles as the others; Scott having been best-friends with Stiles since they were young, and Stiles being the first real friend Cora had made after recovering from the shock of Boyd's death.  
Although he wasn't the best of friends with Stiles, Isaac still cared ; Derek could see that.  
"They're on their way now. And even if Peter has done something; you know that it's unlikely he's going to get away with it, or that he'd even try with how heavy the consequences are. Especially after Deaton and Derek threatened him." Isaac's words seemed to immediately calm Scott down. Although the new Alpha still hadn't learned learnt to fully accept any advice Derek seemed to offer, he still had some kind of brotherly trust towards Isaac.  
"So we're just going to wait and see." Scott stated, sounding more than a tad bit judgemental and altogether full of pout.  
"Yep." Agreed Cora in false cheer.  
Derek just knew it was going to be a disaster.

"You know, your car is like super high tech; leather seat warmers, side parking cameras, inbuilt GPS, voice control, an automotive sunroof. It's kind of surprising that you're this technologically able, you know, since you were in a coma for like, six years." Only after Stiles said it did he realise his comment may have come across as slightly insulting. He called moments like these "throwing an Isaac".  
They were in Peter's expensive and shiny Jag on the way to Derek's loft. Stiles had wondered if they should really even go- what with Derek seeming easily aggravated towards Peter at the moment. Peter had reassured him, though, that they were only to stay a little while; long enough for the others to see that Stiles was okay, and short enough not to rile anyone up.  
The space issue on the ride there was hard; Stiles still needing to have some kind of bodily contact with Peter, but not too much as to not distract his driving. They'd settled for Stiles placing his hand on the werewolf's bicep, keeping a physical line tethered but not at all truly enough for what Stiles wanted. He was already starting to feel antsy after only five minutes.  
Peter shrugged, not taking his eyes of the road as he said: "What can I say? The modern times suit me."  
Now, Stiles was currently the in opinion that everything suited Peter, but if he thought about it he was certainly sure that the medieval times would have suited him more than the modern. Old villagers to scare, kingdoms to take over…schemes to make and people to behead.  
These thoughts were a prime example of how Stiles still knew that Peter was, in the eyes of society, a bad person. He knew that Peter had killed, that Peter liked to kill if it brought him power. He knew that Peter would to anything to gain power; he'd proven that by killing his own niece and managing to resurrect himself from the grave.  
The thing was, Stiles knew what kind of man Peter was, he just didn't care, not like he used to. He cared in the way that these habits may ultimately cause the demise of Peter, may affect his wellbeing in some way. But it no longer made him hate the man; it was like he couldn't hate him, even though Stiles knew that he should. It was like knowing he shouldn't eat deep-fried goodies; he knew they were bad for him, and other people did too- but quite frankly he couldn't give less of a shit.  
"So… who's going to be there?" Stiles hesitantly asked. He was worried that his father was, actually. Yes he'd been told by Peter that Derek had informed his father of a spur of the moment road trip they were going on…but his father was an unpredictable man and Stiles had an irrational fear that the Sheriff would somehow find out what was going on. Dude was a super-sleuth detective after all.  
"Derek said it was himself, Cora, Isaac and Scott. They're the only ones who know about the situation. Other than that sonofabitch veterinarian of course." Peter told him, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel lazily.  
"What about Allison and Lydia? Or the twins? Has Scott not told them?" Stiles questioned, anxiety rising slightly at the prospect of even more people knowing.  
"Allison and Derek are still on bad terms and you know damn well what Lydia thinks of me. If they'd been involved in any way I'd already be on the run from hunters by now." Peter did have a good point. Both Allison and Lydia were shoot first think later kind of people; even if Lydia still denied it.  
"The twins?" Stiles continued to question.  
"Do you really think they give a shit about anything other than their high school love life?" And again, Peter had a good point.  
Stiles didn't really know what to say further, but he didn't have to try and initiate conversation as Peter soon started talking.  
"Now when we get there, do you know what I want you to do?" Peter asked in an almost rhetorical manner.  
"Ahh, not really?" Stiles was feeling a bit antsy, only being able to touch a small amount, whereas at Peter's apartment he was free to basically cuddle the man whenever he wanted.  
"I want you to not hold back." stated Peter, never taking his eyes off the road and voice maintaining its bored quality.  
"Err…could you, like, expand on that please?" requested Stiles, not sure exactly what Peter was getting at.  
"I want you to not hold back- at least not as much as you are now. You want to hug me, then hug me. You want to touch, then touch. I know it might be embarrassing to be seen that way; but no-one will blame you for it." Peter said.  
"But what if I, you know… weird them out? Scott looked totally weirded out yesterday at Deaton's." Stiles questioned, wincing at the reminder of having to act like this in front of Scott.  
"I think the strain on your heart is what they really care about Stiles; we all heard it yesterday when Deaton told you to hold back. It's unhealthy to try and fight the urge, and the tension will probably build up, causing you to do something much more embarrassing than just hugging me." Peter was right, Stiles supposed. But that still didn't mean that he wouldn't be embarrassed. Well at least there was an upside; at least now he wouldn't have to go without touching Peter freely.

They all heard when the buzzer went off, signifying an arrival at the heavy, rusted door.  
Derek felt a sense of dread as he walked up to open it, not really wanting to see what he knew he would have to inevitably see; but also needing that sense of reassurance that Peter hadn't attempted hurt Stiles. God, the thought of his uncle even touching the teen made his skin crawl and his claws itch.  
Scott, Cora and Isaac were standing awkwardly behind him, Cora for the first time truly showing her nerves; her soft eyebrows furrowed and teeth gnawing away at her lips.  
Then came the booming of heavy knocks on the loft's solid door, everyone could already hear that they were there; but Peter Hale had always been a fan of theatrics.  
Derek slid the heavy (but not unmovable considering his supernatural strength) metal door open, breathing grittily through the sight that greeted him.  
Stiles was, again, clinging to Peter, his body octopussed around the man's entire right arm as he looked anxiously around. Peter, however, was apparently smug- a twinkle in his eye as he smirked knowingly in Derek's direction.  
Derek narrowed his eyes, his only greeting being a giant sniff in their direction, just to make sure.  
They smelled; well to Derek they smelled repulsive; not in a rotted meat way, but in a Peter and Stiles way- their scents mixed so much they had almost become indistinguishable. It was just…wrong. Wrong how happy Peter seemed with this; wrong how affectionate Stiles looked, and wrong how they could do nothing to stop it.  
Derek, of course, had known that this would happen, what with Stiles having to be constantly in contact with his uncle. They didn't smell like what Derek had been fearing though; either blood and pain, or salt and sex. So that was a good sign, at least there was one good thing among all of the bad.  
"Hello nephew." Peter greeted, moving himself and Stiles around the bristling Derek and into the loft- leaving the younger Hale to angrily slide the door shut behind them, trying to keep his wolf in check.  
When Derek turned around to look at the rest of the pack; he could see the hesitance in both Scott and Isaac; and the pure disgust in Cora. Ever since she came back Cora had pretty much showed an extreme dislike for Peter, and Derek knew that in that moment she hated him more than ever.  
"So you're in one piece then." Scott commented jokingly, or at least it was seemingly meant as a joke; but instead it came out sounding purely relieved.  
"Yeah dude, after the way you guys threatened him yesterday, I'm surprised he's not just pushing me away right now." Stiles chuckled.  
Derek wasn't surprised at all though; in fact by the looks Peter had been sending him, the man seemed all too happy to be flaunting Stiles around.

Soon they were all in the main part of the loft, everyone trying to maintain awkward conversation while at the same time not ripping Peter's face off. Well, Derek was just trying the later, remaining silent and glaring at the pair.  
Derek was also trying very hard not to wolf out since Peter and Stiles were together on the blue sofa, cuddling. Yes that's right, Peter was lying back down on the sofa and Stiles was snuggling on top of him, hands around his waist and face snuggling into the elder male's neck. The boy's T-shirt had ridden up, showing a sliver of skin and dimples just above the line of his jeans. Peter was, to Derek's disgust, caressing those dimples with his thumbs.  
The teen's legs were spread wide around the older male; unconsciously inviting him- and Derek could see how much his uncle wanted to take that invitation.  
The knowledge made his wolf bloodthirsty.  
Derek didn't actually know how his uncle was dealing with having someone's teeth so close to his jugular; especially when it was against a wolf's instincts…but he thought it must have something do with how much control Peter knew he had over the boy. Derek felt sick.  
"Could you not, you know- do that?" surprisingly Isaac was the first to start protesting at the outward affection of the couple. Though, in saying that it might not have been the affection so much as Peter's hand starting to stray dangerously close to the round of Stiles' backside.  
"If he holds back it harms his heart," Peter shrugged, "You can all hear it." he smirked at all of them, looking over the top of Stiles' messy hair and straight into Derek's eyes, "And I'm sure none of you would want any harm to come to his health now would you?"  
Beside Derek, Cora was clenching her fists tightly in anger. "No, we don't want that. But it's not him who seems to be having trouble holding back." stated Cora, pointedly inclining her head to Peter's roaming hands.  
"Ugh God," Scott muttered, mimicking Derek's exact thoughts, "Can we just stop talking about it and start a new conversation. At least then I'll have less of an urge to puke...or eviscerate Peter."  
Peter rolled his eyes, "Fine then- let's talk about the sheriff."  
At that Stiles stopped dosing in Peter's neck and actually payed attention. "What about my dad?" He asked, gazing up into Peter's face with admiration and love.  
It made Derek nauseous.  
"Well, how long is this road-trip charade going to last? In fact what did you tell him Cora?" Peter questioned his niece, not looking away from the starring match Derek seemed to have unconsciously provoked him into.  
"I just said that we wanted to actually explore the country we lived in. Gave him all of the statistics about how everyone waits until they're retired to see whats out their own back door. He thought it was admirable." Cora sighed, "I managed to convince him we'd be gone for three weeks and that the places we were visiting might have shoddy cell reception. He agreed as long as Stiles managed to at least call him twice a week."  
From the other side of the room, Scott frowned at her, "Since when have you had such a good relationship with the Sheriff anyway?"  
Cora huffed, "Oh yeah that. Well I guess it started when I accidentally made him think Stiles had knocked me up."  
"What." Stiles squeaked at the same time Derek choked on his own spit and started coughing harshly.  
"Oh yeah," Cora said with false earnest, a vicious type of glee passing over her features "When you tried to explain about werewolves? Apparently you coming to the house with a sick-looking teenage girl and starting a speech about how you had to tell him something really important- kind of made the guy jump to conclusions."  
"Holy God that actually explains all the anger then." Derek heard Stiles murmer.  
The teen was still laying splayed on Peter's chest; but at least he was distracted enough by the conversation that he'd stopped nuzzling and cuddling and freaking sighing like he was Peter was some relaxing sweet-tea and Stiles just couldn't get enough.  
"So, we have three weeks to figure this out or make up another lie?" Isaac put out there, looking slightly appeased. Derek guessed it was because they now knew that they at least had some time to sort this shit out.  
"Yeah but what are we going to do about it? I mean Deaton had no clue; the best advice he could give us was "wait and see if it wears off". " Scott sounded bitter and disappointed, but when Derek looked over he saw that Stiles was no longer paying attention; instead he was burrowing further into Peter- his lips grazing the man's chin and his hands starting to roam.  
It wasn't even a second, more like an instant rush, and suddenly Derek felt his wolf explode; like he was being sent to the back and his basic instincts were coming out on top. The instincts that were telling him to grab his uncle and rip. Tear, decimate, burn; basically cause fatal harm.  
He didn't even get a second to try it though, before he felt two strong bodies start holding him back- Cora jumping in front of him to block his view of Stiles and Peter.  
Derek's wolf could feel though, that the one holding his right arm; Scott- was almost as angry as him, just as distracted, and that it probably wouldn't take much pressure to just- there. Derek got his right arm free and slammed Scott back into an adjacent wall- though it was kind of useless since Cora and Isaac still had a hold on him.  
"Leave!" Cora was shouting, but not to him...to Stiles and Peter; the man he wanted to rip apart.  
"Leave before you provoke him more you fucking bastard. Sorry Stiles- but you both have to GO!"  
Derek heard rushing footsteps, the sound of his own struggle echoing in rough growls and huffing pants. Derek turned around, catching a glimpse of Peter's triumphant look before the sound of the loft doors sliding open and shut echoed through the room.  
The smell of them wasn't gone- but it had lessened, and now when Cora pulled away the sight was gone too.  
Peter and Stiles had left.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Brilliant! That was brilliant!" Peter had been oddly silent the whole drive home, looking deeply concentrated and stuck in his mind, just watching the road with bright, calculating, blue eyes.

Stiles had thought the silence was something to do with how they both got kicked out of Derek's loft- however he _didn't realise_ that the situation was supposed to be a cause of celebration.

Because as soon as they stepped one foot into Peter's apartment and closed the door; the werewolf was acting full of absolute delight.

"Oh!" Peter exclaimed, looking both wistful and excited- still not moving from just inside the doorway, obviously too caught up with whatever weird happy-high he was on. "Oh Stiles!" He suddenly leapt forward grabbed Stiles tightly around the waist and spun him around like the men did to the women in those old-fashioned movies. It was nice for Stiles, if somewhat confusing.

After Peter set Stiles back onto the safety of the floorboards, he placed his hands on the boy's shoulders, leaning back to look gleefully into Stiles' face. The man's blue eyes were shining with some kind of deranged delight, and his teeth were revealed in a large, lop-sided grin.

"You were _magnificent_!" Peter enthused, his voice sounding almost mad with joy, his face portraying what Stiles had previously thought to be a vicious, vindictive smile; but now he found himself dazzled by it.

"Ahh?" Stiles mumbled, still distracted by the feeling of Peter's hands on his shoulders. He hadn't been able to pay much attention since he came under the spell. It was like Peter's very presence distracted him enough to leave him completely out of the loop.

"I got us kicked out?" he reminded Peter, confused by all of the strange excitement the man seemed to be showing.

"Yes and it was _brilliant_!" Peter exclaimed as he took Stiles by the hand and swept them both forward through the short hallway and into the open plan living room, all the while chuckling under his breath. There Peter immediately reclined lengthways on the couch. Still not letting go of his hold on Stiles' hand he rested his back against the armrest and pulling Stiles' into the V of his legs.

"I'm...not following." Stiles screwed up his face in confusion whilst simultaneously giving into the need to lean backwards on the couch and into Peter's chest- leaving them into a sorted half-spooning couch cuddle. It was nice for Stiles, but also he knew- totally forbidden. It was the same kind of guilt Stiles assumed a recovering addict would feel before giving in to a relapse.

God, before all of this he would've slapped someone if they told him that he'd be snuggling with one of his worst enemies and _enjoying it_. And if they mentioned the fact it was Peter Hake he probably would've barfed.

"Don't you get it Stiles?" Peter asked, chuckling. Puffs of his breath swept across the back of Stiles' neck in warm bursts. "Derek was _furious_- in fact he almost lost control right there! Hell right now that pack is probably arguing and spatting like crazy."

"And that's a good thing?" Stiles pondered. He wasn't really liking where the conversation was heading, but he found himself almost unable to care as he was enjoying the warmth of Peter around him a little too much. Actually, Stiles was finding it hard to care about _anything_ that didn't directly correlate with either Peter himself or getting closer to Peter. It was unhealthy, Stiles knew that- but then again, he _didn't care._

"That is an mazingthing Stiles. And do you know why?" Peter was obviously being rhetorical- actually, Stiles sensed a monologue coming up. But that was okay, he was starting to have this weird fondness for the man's voice.

"Because Stiles, this little thing between us-" such a cold way to put their relationship, it made Stiles' heart clench, "- is causing _chaos, _and you know how much I love chaos. Chaos means...well it means distraction. Derek's distracted, Cora and Isaac are distracted, and even though I love to torment my nephew- the most _important one_; Scott, is distracted."

Stiles, well, he knew it was just an effect of The Spell (he had to keep reminding himself that), but he felt a pang of jealousy at the words 'most important one'.

"And the best part is; they're worried about _you._ Not me- or at least only me in regards to what I could do to _you_. You, Stiles, are basically taking up all their focus right now- I doubt they even _care _about anything else at the moment." Stiles twisted his head around a little to stare up and into Peter's face- it was smug, and his eyes were wide and bright...almost crazed.

"I-," Stiles frowned, "What are you planning on doing?" he could tell it was something evil- he wasn't so infatuated that he was denying the darkness within Peter.

The problem was, if Peter _was _planning something against his friends...which side would he be on?

"Oh don't worry your little head off. I have nothing planned for the immediatefuture- we still have a lot more riling up to do first." That didn't sound like Peter _didn't _have a plan. In fact it made it sound almost certain that he did.

"How do you know there is a future? With this I mean." Stiles gestured between them with a flailing hand. "I mean- it could wear off. You know, the spell."

Peter rose his eyebrows and grinned- linking his arms around the boy's waist and hugging him from behind. "And do you _want _it to ware off?" he asked mockingly.

Stiles swallowed, feeling his heart beat rise and his cheeks swell with heat; "Well...no. But that's part of the spell thing too isn't it? I would never want this- I'm not _supposed to want this._" Saying the words, especially out loud to Peter, felt like a betrayal.

"Ahh but you do want it." Peter stated, and with a quick loosening of his arms from around Stiles' middle, he stood up with a flourish. Moving with almost inhuman speed Peter was suddenly off the couch and across the room- almost making Stiles himself fall off himself from the movement.

The boy suddenly had this wave of panic- pure terror drenching his every thought. Peter was too far away. Peter was gone. Peter wasn't _there_. Peter wasn't- he wasn't _there._

But he was there- standing across the room- and Stiles almost immediately bolted, knocking magazines off the coffee table in his haste to get across the room and into Peter's space.

"See." he said as Stiles leapt into the man, embracing him. "You cant even last a moment without me. You depend on me." he said, rubbing the top of his jaw over Stiles' hairline. Stiles hugged him tightly around the waist- his heart leaping into his throat as the terror dwindled.

"You _need _me." Peter whispered, leaning down to run his lips over the shell of the boy's ear.

Stiles shivered "You're having a lot of fun with this." he accused. He was confused about why Peter was so _happy _when he was essentially being forced to spend an indefinite amount of time with a clingy teenager.

"I most certainly am." Peter responded, leaning back to bring his hand up and caress the underside of Stiles' jaw, his eyes staring down at the boy in a completely predatory way.

Stiles sighed, leaning into the elder man's touch while being simultaneously disgusted with himself for not arguing further. But it was _hard_ not giving into these urges. It was hard to keep fighting, to keep reminding himself that Peter was the bad guy; not some love interest he should devote his time to.

"I-" Stiles tried again, "I might be dependant on you now...but I'm not supposed to. I probably- last night I shouldn't have done that." Stiles sighed. He had...he had liked Peter touching him- he still did, but he knew it wasn't right and at that moment it was taking all of his strength not to forget that fact.

"What?" Peter asked, stepping even more into Stiles' personal space, moving his hands from Stiles' jaw around to his back, sliding down to harshly grasp the boy's ass. "Done this?" he squeased Stiles at the same time as pushing at him, grinding their hips together in an all too distracting movement.

"Y-yep that. Don't do _that_." Stiles squeaked out the last word, burying his face into Peter's chest to avoid the humiliation of his inhibition.

Peter quickly relaxed his hold, changing their position into more of a tight hug than anything else.

Stiles was disappointed, but also relieved.

"Don't worry kid- we've already risked it enough for the while. Derek's already riled up enough as it is, wouldn't want to go making it worse." Peter looked like he certainly did.

"I thought you wanted to rile him up though?" Stiles was stupid. He supposed to be resisting, _not egging Peter on. _Though in hindsight, his resistance was pretty pathetic. Heh- his resistance was _futile_.

Peter snorted, "Yeah but I don't want to get my throat ripped out."

"_I'm going to rip his throat out_." Scott promised harshly, punching the brick wall and making the already noticeable large hole in the loft's wall bigger.

"Get in line." Derek muttered in a sour, bitter tone. His elbows were placed on his knees and he cradled his face in his hands. God, it had been _a nightmare_ seeing Stiles like that; Derek had thought he could deal with it, but evidently that was not the case.

"Guys it's not that bad- I mean, Stiles was okay right? He was alive and all." Isaac offered, his voice lacking any strength or even a remote amount of reassurance. At least the kid tried; but then again, Isaac Lahey had always had horrible communication skills.

"Yeah- and it's only been less than twenty-four hours. We have an _indefinite _amount of time for Peter to do _something_ evil. And he's going to do something evil- I can feel it in my bones." Scott glared, turning around from the wall to look at the other three weres who were all positioned in various places around the open room of the loft; Derek on the corner of his own bed, Cora on the spiral staircase and Isaac reclining on the blue velvet couch.

"What? You can feel it in your 'new alpha bones'? Didn't know being an Alpha suddenly turned you into Peter Parker." Cora mocked, smirking at Scott (although her bad mood made it look more like a grimace).

"He's- He wouldn't dare touch Stiles. Not when he knows we're watching him." Isaac piped up again.

"Yeah but..." Scott sighed, "But it's the _full moon_ in three days time and- well we all know how the moon lowers our inhibitions."

Derek felt a wave of anxious terror course through him. He had forgotten about the moon; _completely forgotten; _a thing he had never done before. Obviously this love spell problem was taking up more of his concentration than he thought.

Cora frowned at Scott. "Peter's an experienced wolf. The moon wouldn't put him out of control; not like that."

Derek snorted. "Cora you didn't see it, but before his death he'd lost _all _control- and afterwards...well let's just say Peter doesn't really care about consequences any more."

"A dead man has already lost everything. Peter has nothing to lose." Isaac stated innocently despite the darkness of his words.

Cora crossed her arms and huffed. "So what are we gonna do about it then? Because Stilinski may be a pain in the ass, but I'd really rather not subject him to our uncle."

"We're going to find a cure to this thing." Derek stated, saying it like it was the simplest thing ever.

His sister rolled her eyes and pushed he hip out into an entirely judgemental pose. "Yeah, and how do you expect us to do that?"

Derek sighed. "I don't know...but as soon as we do I call first dibs on ripping Peter's throat out."

The loft was silent after that, everyone lost in thought.

They _were _going to find a way- Derek just didn't know how yet.


	6. Chapter 6

**!Warnings Ahoy!: This is dark people, and will be a disturbing chapter- you can skip it if you want and the story will probably still make sense.**

Chapter Six

Deaton had said it was going to get worse- and it got _worse._

It had been a two full days since he'd gotten them kicked out of Derek's loft, and during that time Stiles couldn't eat, sleep, shower or even _exist _without Peter at his side.

It had escalated to more than just hand-holding; Stiles needed freaking _cuddles_- kisses, strokes down the back, hands around his waist, basic _touch_. But what he really wanted; Peter would not give, it apparently being 'too dangerous at the moment' and that they had to 'wait for the situation to settle' a bit before they did anything drastic. That hadn't stopped the man that first night- but apparently since then Peter had decided it would be a better idea not to aggravate the pack further.

The only time they ever broke away was when one of them needed to go to the toilet, and just those few moments caused Stiles to be physically exhausted and nervous as all hell. Just the feeling of being away caused his heat to leap into his chest and his pores to sweat; the feeling was of intense anxiety and worry that something might happen to Peter, that somehow if he didn't have a hold on the man that Peter would float away and never be with Stiles again. He usually had to have half and hours snuggle fest on the bed after moments like these.

Peter's restraint wasn't that easy for the werewolf either, Stiles could tell. The man constantly held a held a hungry look in his eyes, especially during the times when Stiles felt most desperate. Also, there was one or two incidents...or maybe a few more, where the pressure and constant need got to Stiles, and he had to...find some relief I.e. what all teenagers do to let out pent-up frustration.

During these times Stiles would blatantlystare at the man in his company, drinking in his presence and using it in his best ability to finish quickly and efficiently. Peter, however, looked away, always gritting his teeth and clenching his fists; his eyes flashing bright blue and looking one step away from pouncing. The obvious show of arousal the man held, and the way he always sniffed obviously in Stiles' direction once he'd spilt, made the sight of Peter infinitely more arousing for the human.

They spent days like this; a routine of cuddling and ignoring tension- Stiles becoming almost unable to function on a normal basis; ignoring his food in favour of staring at Peter, not speaking in fear of interrupting anything the man had to say and just generally loosing time in the vague haze that had become Stiles' habit of gazing at the man for hours on end.

He knew Peter liked his witty banter; so he tried his best to at least keep up that front, however he also knew Peter liked the power that the situation brought him. Stiles had observed (as his entire days were filled up of observing Peter) that the werewolf liked the idea of having someone completely devoted to him; someone who wouldn't betray him; someone who would die for him and protect him in any means necessary.

Stiles wasn't stupid through, he also knew Peter liked the chaos and distraction plus the opportunity to get the upper hand over Derek and Scott. That's all Stiles was an _opportunity._ He got that and it hurt, but Peter was obviously attracted to him and Stiles would take whatever he could get at this point.

The problem was, Peter wasn't acting on those attractions, not lately at_least and it was driving Stiles insane._

Stiles could tell that Peter was more agitated than usual. Constantly scratching his chin, tapping his feet, sighing loudly in frustration- that kind of thing.

Peter had king-sized bed with silken sheets, throw pillows- the works. Apparently living in cheap hospital conditions for six years gave the man quite a yearning for luxury.

Stiles didn't know how Peter got the money to pay for such expensive home-wears; especially since he remembered a conversation with Derek about how Peter's access to the Hale insurance and inheritance fund being cut off due to 'untrustworthy attitudes', and Stiles _knew _Peter didn't have a job; there was just no way the man would ever take commands from anyone, let alone get a job where he himself wasn't the boss.

For the past few days Stiles had enjoyed himself laying on the luxurious bed next to the man, staring as Peter read a book; often times lengthy and often times in some foreign language, or surfed the internet on his laptop.

He spent most of his time just looking- studying the way Peter's bright blue eyes flashed when he found something intriguing, or the way his jugular throbbed when he was tense. Stiles also spent a lot of time thinking, thinking whether he really wanted this to end or not.

Before the love spell he would have never even _considered_ Peter as anything other than disgusting and terrifying, but now- even if it was fabricated- his love felt real. And with that love came the need to protect, to _serve_ in some way- to make Peter happy. However the problem was...if anyone happened to find a cure, or if the spell just ended naturally; then he knew he would no longer care for Peter's well-being and Stiles found himself panicking at the idea of a world where he no longer loved Peter Hale.

That night, on the eve of the full moon; it all came to a head.

It was about seven pm at night and Stiles could see the agitation and strain coursing through the werewolf. They were both lounging on the bed, Stiles' forehead tucked underneath Peter's jaw as the man half-heartedly wrapped his arms around him whilst simultaneously reading some kind of Russian bestiary.

Peter wasn't paying attention to him much; but Stiles considered himself lucky that the man even let him have his near constant proximity.

They'd been there since almost mid afternoon, and although Stiles thought it seemed like he'd _never _get tired of staring at Peter- he decided it was time for something else.

Stiles moved his eyes from the man's face to look down at the rest of his body. The teen didn't have the best vantage point though, being snuggled to Peter's chest.

He took his hands out from where they were being cradled in his own stomach, and moved the left one out, slowly running his fingers lightly up and down Peter's abdomen, making the movement light but intentional.

The boy looked up as he was doing so, noticing that Peter _looked _as if he was ignoring him- but Stiles could see the light tick in the man's jaw that said otherwise.

Stiles shared a small smirk with himself and decided to go a bit further, and on the next upstroke of his fingers, he skimmed beneath Peter's Henley- his fingers running lightly over soft, furry skin. _Oh _now Peter was _definitely _clutching that book a little tighter than necessary, his knuckles going white and his eyes piercing into the pages like he was working really hard to keep them from straying.

Stiles looked up at Peter's averted face and moved his hand _down _stroking over the in-seam of the man's jean-clad crotch light as a feather.

Peter growled, but made no move. God the man's control was starting frustrate the boy.

Due to the close proximity, Stiles could smell the other very clearly; the salty, nutty, manly smell that encompassed Peter. Deciding that it couldn't hurt; Stiles followed that smell from where his face was smushed into Peter's chest, down. He started by lightly running his nose along Peter's stomach- his body shifting to accompany the movement- then, lower _lower _until his face joined his hand at Peter's _distinctly bulging _crotch, his body rising so that he was perched on his forearms and knees, crouched over Peter.

Stiles stoked his fingers slowly, lightly over Peter's zipper and looked up. "Sure we couldn't break a few rules?" he asked; aware that his 'sex voice' wasn't very sexy at all.

Peter didn't respond, but Stiles could see his unnaturally sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip, and the iridescent blue glow that held steadily in his eyes.

The teen decided to go for one last parting shot, lifting head up to search for just the right spot, and leaning down to mouth _directly _where the head of Peter's dick appeared to be.

Peter didn't last a second before growling loudly and throwing the book across the room to land with a 'smack' against the wall.

In a flash he pulled Stiles up so they were face-to-face, gripped the boys waist with both knees and flipped them so now _he _was the one crouching over Stiles.

Peter's hands had locked Stiles' wrists above his own head and from what Stiles could feel the man had wolfed out to the extent of having claws.

Stiles felt his heart rabbit up to an incredible speed as his breath started coming out in harsh pants.

"You are playing a _very _dangerous game boy." the werewolf warned, leaning close so that they were nose-to-nose. Stiles could feel the other's hard-on pressing up against his hip; but at the same time he was trapped under the intense, _feral _gaze of the man above him.

Peter looked pained for a moment, clenching his eyes shut with tight eyebrows; but then his expression changed, grew relaxed and eerily calm.

The werewolf looked down at Stiles, his eyes piercing, and smiled in what would have had to be the epitome of a _wolfish grin._

Stiles felt his heart pounding and his pants tightening, he could feel Peter's heart thudding against his own. The man's body heat was crashing over him and Stiles felt a bead of sweat run down his flushed neck.

Peter chuckled. "I tried so _hard_ to be good Stiles. I _tried. _But Jesus it's nearly the full-moon and you're so _needy _for it and-" Peter growled, his hands gripping tightly at Stiles' waist.

"I'm. Done. Holding. Back." he hissed, and proceeded to flip Stiles over onto his stomach in one powerful twist.

In a whirlwind of confusing movements and harsh breathing, Stiles found himself naked; his clothed lying shredded on the ground in such a record time that Stiles hadn't even comprehended that it was happening.

He heard a bit of rustle behind him of a draw opening (Peter still keeping one hand on Stiles' waist to keep skin contact) and a chuckle. "I've always liked this ass." Peter said, and Stiles felt a hot hand start to massage at his bare, left ass-cheek.

He was almost dizzy; things having moved too quickly for him to really get a grasp of what was going on, though in saying that he was still harder than he could remember ever being.

Stiles tried looking over his shoulder as he heard the 'snap-click' of a cap opening- but Peter grasped his hair roughly and pushed his face towards the headboard. "Eyes front." The werewolf commanded.

It wasn't long before a strong hand was lifting his hips up and his legs apart, and a slick, cold finger was shoved up and into him.

It burned, Peter hadn't hesitated to wait before moving in and out in harsh, fast stabs. Stiles didn't complain though, knowing that whatever was happening would make Peter happy, and in turn would make him happy.

Just as the burn of the first finger was starting to ease and turn into something more...pleasant, a brief memory of all the 'consensual sex is the best sex' talks flashed through his head, before that all disappeared as he felt another finger breach him.

Stiles let out a muted gasp in pain before bighting his lip harshly and forcing himself to _relax _and even push back a bit. Because even though it hurt- there was some weird feeling in the pit of his stomach; not so much lust as...need? Yeah, some kind of need for Peter, to please him completely and utterly, but also to be pleased by him.

Stiles let himself moan as a wave of heat shot through his body and out through his dick in a drop of pre-come.

"Look at you." Peter chuckled darkly, stabbing three fingers in now, his other hand moving to pinch at Stiles' right nipple. "Look at you- you _need this_. You want this- You. _Love_. This." the man punctuated each word with a sharp stab and twist of fingers.

The pain had been oddly fast to take a back seat in his mind as Stiles felt a rush of pure need spike through him.

"_Please_." he groaned, his voice lower and more breathless than he was used to.

Without another word Peter was squelching his fingers out- Stiles didn't even have time to complain- and replacing them with something much larger, hotter and wetter.

The pain was muted as Peter didn't wait for an adjustment and just started thrusting erratically. Somewhere in the less sex-addled part of his brain Stiles knew that it shouldn't have been that way- that he shouldn't have been so willing to ignore the pain, that it shouldn't have been so _easy_, but he also knew it must've been part of the spell or potion or something that made him _want this so much._

And god did he want it; he was grinding back every few thrusts as Peter jackhammered into him fast and harsh.

"God you're so tight." the man above him panted, his hands moving to grasp and claw at Stiles' hips- moving them into each and every thrust with harsh force. Stiles felt like he was battered, but somehow he liked it- yelling out his appreciation in ever growing little _ah, ah, ah's._

"Jesus Christ." Peter growled, his fingers clenching harder. "God you love this so much. You've never been fucked have you? I'm the first to be inside you aren't I?"

Peter sounded smug, wrecked and _completely _rabid as he slammed into Stiles over and over.

Stiles could feel the tension in his own groin building, his balls throbbing and tightening as his own dick smacked against his belly with the force of the werewolf's thrusts.

Peter leaned close to his ear, lifting Stiles up so that his hands were off the bed and they were both on their knees, pressed back to chest.

"You're close aren't you Stiles?" Peter panted into his ear, as his hips moved up a bit and started pistoning in _just the_ _right place._

Stiles screamed out as his prostate was pounded into over and over again in a relentless, wild rhythm. God, it felt so good, it felt right in a way- like he'd never want to do anything else ever again. Just live and fuck that's it.

Stiles spread his knees apart wider right before he seized up and _exploded _in a whitening rush of sparks before his eyes.

He moaned louder and louder as Peter started speeding up, turning even more erratic and uncontrolled, his balls slapping lewdly against Stiles' ass in wet smacks. Stiles was still coming as he felt himself clench in pulses around Peter's dick.

"Fuck, _holy God_- Jesus-_Fuck_!" the werewolf yelled, and Stiles felt the man twitch inside of him and then there was a rush of warm wetness coating his insides.

Stiles panted as Peter ground them both through it- pulling out without a warning and leaving Stiles to flop bonelessly back to the mattress; feeling empty, sore and uncomfortably sticky.

Peter fell beside him, letting Stiles roll over and cuddle against his chest in a post-coital haze.

"You're mine." the older man growled against his forehead. "You aren't leaving and this spell isn't either Stiles, you're _mine."_

But Stiles was already asleep.

**This is a reminder that I DO NOT condone Peter's actions. What he is doing is NOT OKAY. I just wanted to make it clear that I know that the actions I am writing are horrible and unethical and that Peter deserves to be slaughtered, quartered and pecked at by hungry crows.**


End file.
